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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048427">A series of unfortunate events</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raw_Ramen_Noodles/pseuds/Raw_Ramen_Noodles'>Raw_Ramen_Noodles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avengers (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Awesome James "Rhodey" Rhodes, BAMF Maria Stark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Feminine Tony Stark, Fuck Howard Stark, Gay Howard Stark, Gay Rhodey Rhodes, Gen, Homophobia, Howard Stark dies, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, James "Rhodey" Rhodes &amp; Tony Stark at MIT, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Maria Stark's Good Parenting, Open to Interpretation, POV Tony Stark, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Recovery, Rules, There’s no romantic plot, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, bucky barnes is smart, but go ahead, i guess you could read Rhodey/Tony, im not afraid to say that being homophobic is an illness that can be cured, implied/referenced conversion camps, it’s not what I meant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:01:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048427</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raw_Ramen_Noodles/pseuds/Raw_Ramen_Noodles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, 7 year old Tony Stark finds his mother’s makeup. He just wanted to be pretty like mommy. </p><p>Howard doesn’t approve, but he has skeletons in his own closet, and his intentions aren’t always the purest when it comes to teaching Tony the rules of a Stark man.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Howard Stark/Maria Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes &amp; Tony Stark, Obadiah Stane/Howard Stark, possible James “Rhodey” Rhodes/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A series of unfortunate events</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt list: lemon grove, glittering, sunrise</p><p>TRIGGER WARNINGS<br/>Homophobia<br/>Mentions of physical ab*se<br/>Emotional ab*se<br/>C*nversion c*mps</p><p>The homophobia is addressed quite thoroughly  by the end, but I don't think it should trigger anyone too bad. The ab*se is highly frowned upon and pretty evident. The c*nversion c*mp is only implied. Stay safe!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At 7 years old, Tony first encountered the idea of makeup. He found a stash of it in his moms bathroom, and he couldn't resist, really. </p><p>The resulting screaming fit his father had thrown upon finding his son coveted in glitter and lipstick was one that could be recorded in history books. He doesn't remember the details anymore, but he does remember the terror that came with his tall, powerful father looming over him and screaming as though he had personally ended the world. It was a lot for a 7 year old to handle. </p><p>Quickly though he learned—as most do—how to avoid the screaming that came from anything his father deemed inappropriate. A doll here, a fairy costume there, both burned hideously at Howard's hand in the fire pit. </p><p>He had threatened to let Tony follow them if he didn't "get in line." That, he did remember about his father. He loved the idea of getting in line. </p><p>And so Tony did. By the time he was 9, he had effectively internalized every single one of his fathers words. Stark men were never to be mistaken for women. Under no circumstances would he act weak. Never, ever, ever touch mothers make up. </p><p>And so Tony was a perfect man. A child, but the epitome of masculinity. He was happy to play only with the toy cars his father incessantly bought him, or at least so he convinced himself. </p><p>And so Tony became a good Stark genius. Howard was proud. Tony almost convinced himself that there had never been a time in his life when he wanted to experiment with something more than chemicals. Almost. It was hard to ignore the rules ingrained in his personality. </p><p>At 14 years old, Tony beat up a boy in his class for looking at him wrong. Father was proud, and Tony was securely unpunished, at home and at school. There were... benefits to being rich and powerful. The boy on the other hand, was hospitalized and missed two weeks of school. </p><p>Sometimes Tony could feel eyes on him. He didn't mind. Let them fear him. Stark men were strong, and demanded respect. </p><p>When the boy came back, Tony kept his head held high. He had been assured by his father that he had done the right thing, though the school had made him swear never to do it again. Howard encourages him to fight for what was right. </p><p>Still, he did not miss the whispers about him, nor the rumors. That he was insane. A bigot. </p><p>He moved schools. </p><p>It was for the better. The next school was for smarter people, like him. He graduated from high school that year. Howard was loath to send him away, but Tony eventually won out, succeeding in his attempts to gain admission to MIT. </p><p>At 16 years old, Tony's best friend told him he was gay. He almost punched James Rhodes in the face. He had lied, shared bedrooms and sleepovers and girl talks, and it was all fake. Instead he left the dorm in search of something to calm his beating heart. </p><p>Instead, he found something entirely different. A friend, sort of. He hadn't spoken to Barnes since they had parted at their high school graduation. He was two years older, still a feat to graduate that young. </p><p>He looked good, if Tony had been the kind to notice such a thing. Stark men weren't blind, but they didn't spend much time looking. Conquests came to them. Not that Barnes was a conquest of any sort. Just an old friend. </p><p>They laugh and talk and Bucky shares a story about his sister, who was Tony's age. How they would be good together. Tony turns down the offer. Stark men don't need help. Besides, she wasn't his type. If Tony had had a type, at least. Stark men should have anyone they want, but Tony didn't particularly want anyone. He had dated plenty of girls, but none of them were right for him. They were too stuffy. He much preferred staying in with James, or even this meet up with Barnes. </p><p>After all, Stark men were independent, and although a woman was nice, she was unnecessary. Distracting, even. </p><p>Tony ends the night with a much more level head than he had begun it with. He returned home, and declared he would be finding a new roommate, but he wished James the best. A done deal. </p><p>At 17 years old, Tony cries for the first time in nine years. Both parents dead in one fell swoop at the hand of his own idiot father. He should've killed Howard himself. As the new wealthiest minor in America, Tony found it easy to get what he wanted. He graduated that year, and returned home.</p><p>Home had always been quiet, but for the first time ever it was empty. He had let all the staff go when his parents died, so he was unsurprised to find a thin layer of dust over anything and everything. </p><p>His first task as a college graduate with two PhDs was to clean out the attic. It seemed like a good place to start. He could work from top to bottom. No part of him wanted to keep the house. Too many memories. </p><p>The only thing of any interest that he finds is a photo book that he'd never seen. It's full of Howard as he had been when he was young: carefree, happy. Most of the other people in the book go unrecognized to him, until he sees his almost-uncle Obie, kissing Howard's cheek. The next picture isn't a picture at all. It's a post card. Tony pulls it out and flips it over.</p><p>
  <i>Dearest Howard, I regret to inform you that we will not be speaking again in these ways. Father is sending me to a disciplinary school. I believe you should go too. They say they can cure people like us. Best, Obie.</i>
</p><p>Tony blinks, flipping it back over. Dated at 1923. He puts it back in the sleeve, swallowing down what was threatening years of training. His father had been exactly what he had sought to eliminate from Tony. </p><p>And Obie.. he had been so close to the family. It was good that mother had never found this. She would've been devastated.</p><p>He keeps turning pages, all the men standing so close to a loose and open, very young and poor Howard Stark making perfect sense. When he reaches the end, he finds a stack of letters and scraps and post cards, all stuffed in a pocket. </p><p>There's no point in reading them. Tony knew what they contained. He sets the book aside, feeling the threat to his composure increasing by the second. He would burn the book. It alone had the power to bring that Stark empire crumbling down around him. Tony couldn't afford a squandering such as this. It would ruin him, and his fathers legacy. </p><p>And payback for what Howard has done to his doll. </p><p>Tony rises from the floor, brushing dust from his lap. Truly, he wishes it had been him who had killed Howard. Howard who has tortured him for years, afraid that just because Tony wanted to put on a tutu that he would dishonor the family name, Tony kicks an expensive vase across the attic, satisfied with the shattering. That thing had to be at least 5,000 dollars, and now it was gone. Fuck you Howard.</p><p>Tony grabs the photo book and walks down the ladder, ending up in a large room. That was enough for today. He walks purposefully downstairs and out to the patio, hurling a fire starter into the pit. He takes each photo out, every letter and card, using them as kindling. He skits a match across the sandy striking pad, letting it fall into the pile. It erupts into flames, reaching almost up to Tony’s own chest. “You’re going to hell Howard! Have fun rotting!” Tony hurls the book, void of contents into the fire pit. </p><p>He watches the picture of Howard and Obie kissing singe at the edges, then slowly melt through. Tony scowls, turning his back on the past. He walks away, back into the house. His house. It was past 3, but he wasn’t tired, at least not in the way that would inspire him to go curl up in his bed. If he allowed silence, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to hold all his emotions back. Stark men didn’t cry. </p><p>Although who now knew if that meant anything at all. Howard had made those rules, lying through his teeth, so maybe there was no merit to anything he had ever demanded of Tony. </p><p>He pulls out the phone sitting on the desk in the entry way, dialing the only number he knew by heart. “Hello?” The person on the other end of the line asks. </p><p>“James.” </p><p>James falls silent, a shuffling sound on the other side of the phone. “I heard about your parents. I’m sorry.” </p><p>“Howard deserves it. I know I’ve been a dick in the past, but would you be willing to meet up?” Tony presses the phone to his shoulder, closing his eyes. Stark men didn’t come crawling back, according to Howard. Tony wasn’t crawling. He was proud enough to keep his head held high while he admitted his faults, a skill that Howard had apparently never learned. </p><p>The pause is long this time. “Fine.” James lets out a breath heavy enough to come through the phone. “I assume you’re in New York.” </p><p>“Yeah. But I could come to you.” </p><p>“No I’m here too. I’m shipping out in a week so I’m visiting.” </p><p>Tony taps the leg of the table with his foot. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. Or if you were sleeping.” It hurt his heart to think of James at war. James was to nice to go to war. </p><p>“It’s okay. I’ll come by tomorrow.” </p><p>“I’m at my parents house... my house.” </p><p>“Ok. Go to bed, Tony.” </p><p>“Sure. Bye.” He doesn’t tell James that he missed him, but he wants to. It would be hypocritical of course, it was Tony who had said goodbye. </p><p>“Bye.” James hangs up, and Tony puts the phone back where it belonged. He sinks to the ground. He had done so many things at the instruction and praise of his liar of a father. Regrettable things. </p><p>He thinks back to the 14 year old he had hospitalized with his father assuring him that he had done good. </p><p>What had happened to Howard for him to go from the smiling young man in the pictures to the abusive piece of shit asshole that Tony had always known. He suspected that the only one who could answer that now was Obie. </p><p>It would go unanswered. </p><p>Tony trudges up the stairs to his room, collapsing on the pillow. It crunches. Tony sits up and blinks the sleep from his eyes. He lifts the pillow to find a letter addressed to him from Mom. He pulls it out eagerly, breaking the old seal easily. He empties the contents onto his bed, seeing a small box, a note and a picture. He unfolds the crisp paper, staring down at his mother’s handwriting. </p><p>
  <i>Tony. If you’re reading this, then I believe that both Howard and I are dead. However it happened, I’m sorry for leaving you. I wanted to apologize to you. I know that Howard was always very hard on you, and I wish I had been strong enough to protect you. Your father wasn’t always a bad man, though in these past few years he has gone off the deep end. He is trying to protect you, in his own way. I hope you don’t think ill of him, but I understand if you do. I find myself sharing that thought more often than not nowadays.<br/>
I bought you this, in case you wanted to explore what you were forced away from. I love you, no matter who you turn out to be. Marcy has already been paid for delivering this, but if you wish to compensate her more, I would more than support it.<br/>
We will meet again one day my sweet son. Stay strong, not like your father, but like you. I love you.<br/>
With love, Maria Stark.</i>
</p><p>He grabs the box next, willing to ignore the tears poking at his eyes. He unlatches it to find a tiny eye shadow pallet, with a little brush on the side. </p><p>That’s when Tony starts crying. He would’ve like to say he had started crying when he saw his mother holding him in a pair of wire fairy wings, smiles on both their faces, no doubt just before Howard showed up, but it wouldn’t be true. He started crying when he saw the eye shadow his mother had hand picked for him, who knows how long ago. </p><p>He puts all the contents of his mother’s letter back where they had been, and sets it on his bedside table, collapsing into the no longer crunching pillow. He allows the tears to flow as the wished, streaking down his face. His body shudders with 10 years of suppression. When he had cried last week, it had been only a few silent tears, but now, there was no mistaking his feelings, his aching heart. He can’t distinguish between crying and sleeping when he wakes up the following morning, eyes stinging from tears. It was early, which was a surprise if he had ever seen one. </p><p>Tony reaches for the small pallet before he even stands, looking down at the subtle yet sparkling browns and the one soft yellow. If there was one person he didn’t think would judge him, it was James. He applies it slowly, meticulously, watching his appearance in the mirror. The sunrise makes him sparkle like gold, and Tony can’t help the single tear that runs down his cheek. Howard would’ve killed him. </p><p>He applies a bit of yellow to the inside of his eyes, wincing as he almost pokes them out. </p><p>The doorbell rings. Tony jumps up, watching the sunrise for only a moment before hurrying towards the front door. He pulls it open to reveal James standing there awkwardly. “Hi Tony.” </p><p>“James.” Tony smiles. “Please, um, you should come inside.” </p><p>James steps in past him, shrugging his light jacket onto the coat hanger next to the door as Tony presses it shut. “Are you wearing makeup?” </p><p>Tony presses his lips together. “There’s a lot I should say. First of all, and maybe the most important, I’m sorry for how I reacted.” They both knew what incident Tony was referring to. “I was out of line. Can I get you a drink? I found some lemonade from Moms grove in the fridge.” </p><p>James raises an eye brow. “Yes. You seem... very different.” </p><p>“These past few months, and especially the last two days have been a bit of a reckoning for me.” Tony leads him through to the kitchen, James sitting down in a chair at the dinner table currently basked in warm morning light. “When I was young, my father hit me.” He pours out two glasses of the lemonade—the last batch Mom would ever make—ice clinking I’m the glass cups. “I don’t.. didn’t talk about it.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” James says, looking up at him as Tony hands him the cup of lemonade, hopefully a good enough peace offering. </p><p>Tony shakes his head, falling into the seat next to him, scooting it to face him. “It’s not your fault. I think that Howard was gay. I found a letter from.. a man I still know that all but said he should go to conversion camp—they both should.” Tony takes a sip of his lemonade, feeling interest eyes on his every movement. “I think... I think he beat me because he was scared I would turn out like him. That um.... he was taught that being.. gay would ruin his life. So he thought that.. if I were, it would ruin the company he had built from nothing.” </p><p>James sits back in his chair, slowly sipping the lemonade. “And are you?” </p><p>“I don’t know. Maybe.” He lets out a laugh. “I wouldn’t even know. I mean really when you think about it, Howard did do a good job. He would’ve got what he wanted if I hadn’t found out about him.” </p><p>“To control you.” James puts his hands together, studying Tony. “So you were homophobic to me because your dad beat it into you.” </p><p>“Sounds like a lame excuse.” </p><p>He shrugs. “It’s not bad as far as they go. The makeup looks good, Tony. I hope you found what you wanted.” </p><p>“Did you?” Tony says quickly, looking up over the rim of his cup. “I mean, are you.. happy.” </p><p>James shrugs, pausing to take another long contemplative sip. “You could say so. I miss you, you know.” </p><p>“I miss you too.” He wouldn’t have admitted to it until now, when James was finally here in front of him, but he always missed James. “It sucks that you’re... going away now.” </p><p>“It’s not so bad. Besides, you’ve got things to do now too, Mr. Stark.” </p><p>Tony rolls his eyes. “Don’t ever say that again, James.” </p><p>James laughs. “Are you.. happy though? You’re kinda.. free now.” He looks guilty for saying it, and Tony understands why. Free from his now dead parents. </p><p>“I don’t know. I think I could be. It feels a little late to be figuring things out.” </p><p>“You’re only 17. You might have 2 PhDs and a multimillion dollar company to your name, but you’re a kid, Tony. It’s never too late to figure it out.” James sets his hand over Tony’s. “When I come back, because I will, promise me you’ll at least have tried to figure it out.” </p><p>Tony nods shakily. “I’ll try.”</p><p>And try he would.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, great. Um, so I got this prompt from a list of 10 three concept prompts, so you may be expecting some more similarly written stories about other Marvel heroes.<br/>Stay tuned :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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